an almost unremarkable trip. did about 4 grams with a friend, which for me would normally be a massive dose, since my tolerance for mushrooms seems to decrease with every time i take them. we hopped on the subway with no particular destinaion in mind, and they kicked in within about 15 minutes. the trip progressed pretty normally: nausea, things acquiring several skins that shifted around, including my friend's face, which was really creepy to me; it looked like she had spiderwebs all over her face, with insects crawling around underneath.
the unusal thing was the way i experienced time, a totally new experience for me. i was completely aware of the present, but i could sense the time around each exact moment as a solid line being hacked away with a meat cleaver, each experience being cut off and dropped haphazardly into a pile , and recalled in any order. there was no continuity to anything. i'd find myself at one particular subway station, but remember being six stops away only seconds before, and then before that being somewhere in between. i'd stop in mid-conversation and say "remember what you said an hour ago.." and bring up something my friend had said only a few mintes before. i explained my sensation of time to her, illustrating it with my hands, and the whole thing animated itself in front of us: we could see the line, the knife, everything. i could pluck out any piece of the line and recall a certain thing we'd said, but not where it fit into the whole experience.
after that, i felt euphoria that i'd only ever felt with good-quality chemicals. an undescribable peace with everything, an understanding of the pavement and the snow, and where i fit into it all, an appreciation of the artistic qualities of the boot-prints on the floor of the bus, of their intricacy, and i found myself in total awe of whoever it was that had the patience to create something so consistently fascinating. then i realized how stupid it was to be admiring grime on the floor and everything sort of droped off from there.